“Delivery for Dr. Jenna Sorrel,” said the voice on the intercom. “You’ll have to come down to accept it, though.”

“What’s up?” said Karim from the table.

“A mistake of some kind. Come down with me, would you, Karim?”

Karim took one look at the Corvette and delivered an “Awesome” that sounded genuinely awed.

With an elaborate flourish, the sports-coated stranger led Jenna to the car, then presented her with keys and the title paper. On the windshield was a note: “The gift tax is paid, too. I couldn’t have done it without you. Love. Trav.”

When Karim saw the note, the sun-to-ice change took place. He glared at his mother and at the car, his expression that of an executioner. “What,” he demanded, “did you do to earn this?” He went inside without looking back.

For a moment, she debated sending the car back. She could call Travis, explain it in a way that wouldn’t hurt his feelings. But, damn it, this was her gift, and she wasn’t going to let her son spoil it. If she started running her life according to his moods, she would be institutionalized in a week.

“Hop in,” she said to the young man. “I’ll give you a lift back to your shop.” When she returned, Karim was in his room, the door shut tight.

It was one episode among many. Jenna missed the easy closeness she and her son had once shared. Where had he gone, the good-natured boy who believed she could do no wrong? And how long would the new one be in residence, the one who argued, criticized, disapproved?

She understood that this was normal teenage behavior. Her son was testing his limits, extending his boundaries, reaching for adult status. Being angry with your parents, disapproving of them, was part of growing up, of making the separations that pave the road to independence. It was natural.

All well and good. But as a mother, Jenna simply wanted her son to behave as if he loved her.

Ah, well; if the change was inevitable, it was also probably temporary. Some- day, when Karim was secure in his own adulthood, they would come together again, on a new and more equal basis. Wouldn’t they? Surely, they would.

It was a comforting assumption. How could she know that, in a few short seasons, it would be blown away like chaff on the wind?

O

Another sudden storm, this time over Jenna’s avoidance of the Hamids, peretfille. Professor Hamid was hosting a small party, mainly for his faculty friends, to whom he would show slides from his last trip to Luxor. Jenna, Karim emphasized, was especially invited.

She begged off, pleading work to do. Karim went alone, in a huff.